


He Tries

by wildglitterwolf



Category: Once Upon A Time In Hollywood (2019)
Genre: Angst, Basically husbands, Birthday Fluff, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Emotionally Repressed, M/M, Valentines Drama, War PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-22 13:26:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21302816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildglitterwolf/pseuds/wildglitterwolf
Summary: Cliff finally bites the bullet and moves in while Rick is out of town as a ‘Christmas present.’ The next four months are a test not only for Rick and Cliff’s relationship, but for Cliff to deal with demons from his past.
Relationships: Cliff Booth/Rick Dalton
Comments: 15
Kudos: 69





	1. Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally just going to be a birthday fic but apparently Rick has an actual birthday listed as April 22, 1930 so I had to fill in over eight months of stuff beforehand. So here’s some early Christmas happenings that went longer than planned.

Cliff Booth’s life had a funny way of shaking up at times. First there was the draft that took him in and spit him out as the character he currently was for the most part. Then there was the controversy surrounding his wife that sent him from having steady work to someone most studios wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole and left him in a co-dependent situation just to survive. 

But now this one took the cake. About a couple of months ago he was heading home on a plane from Italy, unemployed, wondering if this was his and Rick Dalton’s last night together as friends now that Rick was married, never to see each other again. Instead, the scare with the hippies made Francesca move back to Italy, and after some time in the hospital and physical therapy he was back to as good as he could be. And that meant he was back to being Rick’s chauffeur and caretaker as if nothing had happened. 

“Come on, Cliff. Just move in with me,” a drunk Rick said without much thought, arm slung around Cliff’s neck as he pokes at his burrito repeatedly. They both thought to celebrate Cliff’s full recovery it would be funny to go back to Casa Vega as a do over of that night, this time with hopefully less stabbing and less feeling of finality to their relationship. 

“I don’t know, man. I still say people are gonna gossip about us. It’s not a good look for your career, especially since Sharon was able to help you out with networking and you’re getting more offers.”

“Well fuck what they all think. We almost died, Cliff. I-I know that what happened with the fucking hippies kinda forced your name into the media spotlight. But… well, I-I’d feel much safer with you around. Brandy, too. And Sharon and them would surely understand that’s why you’re there. Plus just to make sure you’re fully recovered and all… and I’ll be out of town a lot for a few months. We… we c-can make it w-work, Cliff...” Rick’s voice gets softer as he trails off on that last bit. He was staring fixated on the amount of holes he put in his burrito as it started to fall apart. 

“I’ll think about it, ok? Now why don’t you actually eat that burrito instead of murdering it.” 

Cliff honestly has been thinking about it more lately. As much as he enjoyed driving, the near death experience made him realize how much of his life was wasted in a car or all alone in his trailer when it could be spent with Rick. He didn’t know how much time he’d have left until his luck eventually runs out and death catches up to him. 

—

Of course Cliff ended up pushing off the idea again, as usual. Rick didn’t bring it up again feeling it was a lost cause at this point. By early November, he was leaving for about six weeks upstate to shoot a thriller. He was told there wouldn’t be heavy stunt work and in a way, Rick was relieved. As much as Cliff insisted he was fine, Rick didn’t really want Cliff back out there again in case he gets fucked up beyond repair this time so he was starting to be more selective about his roles in regards to this. Cliff didn’t complain, either. As long as Rick was getting work, he might as well just retire from stunting and go full time into being Rick’s… whatever he was. Driver. Gofer. Repairman. Psychiatrist. Bodyguard. Wife. Basically the only Swiss Army Knife Rick will ever need in his life. 

But while Rick was out of town, Cliff decided to pull the trigger and move in while he was away. He figured this would be the best Christmas present he could give Rick seeing as he wasn’t coming back until then. By mid December he finally moved all this shit into the guest room and sold his trailer, although he was too lazy to unpack most of it and just took stuff out as he needed it. 

“Alright, girl,” Cliff says as he plays with Brandy on the floor. “Why don’t you say we go pick out a Christmas tree? A real tree, not one of those shit aluminum ones Rick uses because he doesn’t like pine needles on the carpet. He’s not the one cleaning it up, anyways.” 

Brandy wags her tail as she slobbers all over him. She could tell her owner was happier these last couple of weeks with all the back and forth travel between the house and trailer, oblivious to the fact that she would never see the trailer again as this was her new home. Cliff leashes her up and heads out on their tree search, coming back with one on the cheap side just because it looked a little rough around the edges but still in decent shape. He drags it around through the gate and puts it out back until Rick gets home since he figured they could decorate it together. 

A few days before Christmas, Cliff found himself fighting holiday traffic picking Rick up from LAX. He finally saw Rick along the curb and proceeded to get an earful from him about how he should have known better than to wait last minute before leaving the house and that he had to sit out there for nearly an hour hoping no one would recognize him. 

“Hello to you, too,” Cliff says with a smile as he lets Rick’s complaining roll off him. Oh, how he missed this diva he‘s enabled. 

Apparently the ride home was taking too long for Rick that Cliff had to stop for some burgers so they wouldn’t have to go out again later. Cliff couldn’t tell if Rick was truly cranky because of traffic or he had a miserable shoot, but he was certain he never saw someone shovel fries into his mouth with such aggression before. Thank god he left the tree out back because the last thing he needed right now was a lecture on pine needles. 

“Finally we’ve fucking made it. Just barely before sunset. Fucking city is getting too crowded.”

“Yeah, all these people moving here. Guess they should all go back to Missouri where they came from,” Cliff chuckles as he’s getting out of the car so he can avoid the icy glare he can feel radiating from the passenger side. He goes to unlock the house for Rick and gets down on his knee to greet Brandy and keep her from jumping on Rick.

“Hey girl, look who’s home. It’s ol’ Ricky boy. I don’t think he has any food left for ya, he pigged out in the car.” Cliff acted unphased by the kick he received in his leg as Rick comes dragging his suitcase in. He leaves Rick alone to unpack as he goes to feed Brandy before turning the TV on and flopping on the couch to finally enjoy his burger. About halfway through eating, Rick comes out to confront him, a mix of annoyance and confusion on his face.

“The hell is all that shit doing in my guest room?!”

“Uh, you mean my shit?” Cliff says with his mouthful, not looking up from the TV. 

“The fuck is all your shit doing there? You packed more stuff than I did and you never left town.”

“Rick. That’s _all_ my shit.”

“Yes, I said that. It’s all your shit. Enough to fill your entire fucking trailer so why the hell is it… here…. Oh…”

A smug smile forms on Cliff’s face when he can tell Rick finally figures it out, but he still doesn’t turn to look at him as he continues to eat. “Merry Christmas.”

Rick doesn’t reply as he stands there trying to take it all in before heading off to finish unpacking. But the mood change was was night and day that evening as Rick excitedly talked about the movie he shot with his smile never leaving his face, even when he discussed the worst parts. So feeling like nothing could shake Rick right now, Cliff decides to take him out back to see the tree.

“Cliff, the fuck is this? You know how I feel about real Christmas trees.”

“Hey man, I just thought it would be fun to have a real one for our first Christmas together.”

“The hell you mean first? We’ve spent several Christmases together.”

“Well I didn’t live here before so I figured I’d get a say in what we do for a tree.”

“First of all, I fucking own this place. Second, you bought it before I even knew you moved in. And third, it’s already dried out in several spots and will be dropping soon, you couldn’t have gotten a better tree?”

“Geez, Lucy. You’d think I’d pulled a Charlie Brown with my selection. Besides, thought you loved matured looking things? My skin is more roughed up than this thing.”

“Yeah, but guess what? I don’t FUCK trees!”

These two stubborn assholes went at it a bit longer before Rick finally threw up his hands in defeat, warning Cliff if he so much as sees a needle on his carpet he was tossing it out. Luckily for Cliff, Rick let it go quick enough that he was wondering if it was all for show and Rick just didn’t want to admit he liked the idea. Rick Dalton has to keep up his standards, after all. 

The next day Cliff dropped Rick off to do Christmas shopping while he went off to do Rick’s usual errands he slacked on while Rick was away. Cliff left the kitchen cupboards nearly bare so he had to go restock as well as pick up stuff for Christmas dinner. Usually for Christmas he and Rick would just grill some steaks out back since that was as fancy as either of their culinarily knowledge got. He didn’t see that changing although he tried to get some fancier sides to go with it. 

“Find everything you need?” Cliff asked Rick as he put Rick’s rather large bags in the trunk with the groceries before driving off towards home. “Didn’t think you knew that many people to get gifts for.”

“Well other than you? Got our friends next door and people they’ve introduced me to that I wanna butter up. And some others on studio lots I wanna stay in good favor with.”

“Ah, makes sense. Forgot you actually have a social circle.” Cliff didn’t know why he suddenly felt a little bit jealous. Not that he really wanted friends in particular and he knew he wouldn’t find many in the industry. Maybe he just didn’t like the idea that he couldn’t provide absolutely everything for Rick. After all, Rick nearly did let him go last summer and he would have been screwed if he had. Cliff didn’t want to admit it but he needed Rick more than Rick needed him. 

“Hey buddy, you alright? Did I say something wrong?” Rick asks as he claps his hand on Cliff’s shoulder. “You’re zoning out.”

“Ah, it’s nothing. Just thinking how you almost sent me away and the hell I’d be in now if you did. Probably spending Christmas alone in my trailer.” Cliff wasn’t sure why he decided to be so honest right then. It must have unknowingly been eating away at him, and saying that out loud gutted him. And all he was was one fucking hippie attack away from that being a reality, and he hated that he was feeling thankful for that horrific event. 

Rick suddenly felt sick over the thought. Sure, he’d miss Cliff. But he’d at least have Francesca around for the holidays and hopefully wouldn’t be feeling lonely. And the thought of Cliff sitting alone in his trailer with just a TV and Brandy for company, well… he imagined if it was him and how depressed he would be. It was a very sobering thought. 

“Hey… l-let’s decorate that tree tonight, alright? Get the ornaments and lights down and just b-brighten the place up. A-and f-forget about the pine needles, if they make a mess they make a mess.”

Cliff cracks a grin as they pull into the driveway. “Sounds like a plan, man. I guess you can go wrap while I put groceries away and pull stuff down from the attic.”

About an hour later, Cliff had gotten everything down, brought the tree in, and was in the process of wrapping the lights around tree when Rick comes in with a pile of wrapped gifts. “All for me? You shouldn’t have,” Cliff says with a small laugh. 

“No, only two are for you. The rest are for the people I mentioned. Why don’t you add my gift to the pile.”

“Uhhh…. I gave you my gift. I moved in.” Cliff lights the string of lights and starts checking to make sure all are lit. 

“The hell, that's not a gift. I can’t fucking unwrap that.”

“Oh, is that what it needs to be a gift?” Cliff puts down the light string and walks over to the gift pile. He finds one with his name, takes the ribbon and bow off (“Hey! What the fuck, I worked hard on that!”), and puts the bow on his head and ribbon around his neck. “Alright, unwrap me now.”

“What? No, y-you’re not e-even wrapped up.” 

Cliff shrugs and leaves to go wrap a big sheet around his torso before returning. “Alright man, how about now?”

“You better stay under the tree like that until Christmas.”

“Well then you don’t get to play with me early,” Cliff says with a wink as he goes back to finish checking the lights. “Alright, we’re good. How about we order a pizza and get to decorating?”

“Fine, fine. Maybe we can do early gifts tonight then.” Rick goes and calls the pizza in before he wraps up the bottom of the tree with a cover and places the presents all around. Cliff gets all the ornaments out and placed on the table so they’re easy to grab and gets a fire started in the fireplace. The doorbell rings and is answered with a cautious bark from Brandy as Cliff gives her the signal to wait in place.

“Yeah, the wife only wanted one thing for Christmas. Good thing it didn’t cost much,” Cliff explains to a confused looking pizza boy. “Here, keep the change.”

Rick puts some Bing Crosby vinyl on to finish setting the mood and goes to join Cliff in the living room with a couple of Old Chattanoogas. “Fire is a nice touch.”

Cliff mumbles his thanks with his mouth stuffed with pizza. After they were both couple slices in they get to decorating the tree until all that’s left is the star.

“You wanna do it? You’re taller.” Cliff waves the star offering it to Rick. 

“A whole fucking inch.” Rick laughs but takes him up on it and puts it on top. “Looks nice.”

“It does. Now can we please open gifts, my wrapping is starting to tear.”

Rick rolls his eyes and unceremoniously tears the paper off Cliff. “Oh wow, a handsome stuntman. Just what I always wanted.”

“More like what you always needed,” Cliff smirks as he wraps his arms around Rick’s waist and leans in for a kiss.

Rick lets him have one before pulling away and looking up. “Funny. I don’t see any fucking mistletoe above us.”

“Ah well, it’s invisible. You gotta act like it’s there.”

“Uh huh. Alright then. Guess I got to give one in return.” Rick beams before he returns a more vigorous one to Cliff’s surprise. “Want to open yours?”

Cliff just nods, mouth slightly hung open still in shock from the kiss as he falls back on the couch. Rick drops the one he took the bow and ribbon off of in his lap and Cliff unwraps it. “Uhh… a cookbook? Shouldn’t you also be using this?”

“I just thought you’d like to learn. So you could learn to cook some better shit than what you feed me.”

“Like I said, shouldn’t you also be using this? You’re no Julia Child yourself.”

“Well if you’re going to live here, one of us should take over cooking full time to make sure we both don’t get food poisoning.”

Cliff narrows his eyes before he just lets out a soft laugh. “Alright then. I’ll try to learn. But don’t expect anything masterful.”

“As long as it’s edible, I’m good.”

Cliff shakes his head as he sets it down on the table and grabs the other box. Hopefully this one would be less insulting. 

“Are you…” Cliff is having trouble getting the words out because of how hard he’s trying not to laugh at the frilly pink apron in his hands. “Are you for real, man? Pink isn’t my color.”

Rick wasn’t expecting Cliff to take it as well as he was. “Thought it would go well with the cookb- god damnit, Cliff. You don’t actually have to wear it,” he says as he watches Cliff put it on and walk around with his arms out so Rick got a nice view. “Fuck, man. You’re not suppose to enjoy this.”

“Oh, you brought this on yourself so I’m gonna own it. Only thing missing is you didn’t get ‘Kiss the Cook’ on it.” Cliff leans over him, hands on either side of Rick’s head gripping the couch as he goes in for another kiss. “Change of plans. We aren’t doing steaks this year. I’m gonna slave away making a nice Christmas ham for you.”

“You’re a fucking ham,” Rick laughs as he throws his arms around his neck. “So you said I can play with you now that I’ve unwrapped you, right?”

Cliff gives him a wolfish grin. “Guess I did, didn’t I?” he says, hands already going to unbuckle his belt. 

“Cliff, you’re fucking taking that apron off first, right? Right??!”

He didn’t.


	2. New Year’s Eve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last time I saw the movie, I did notice there are two chairs next to each other behind the pool facing out over the view. So of course my mind says they totally spent time chilling out there together some nights.

Cliff’s fancy Christmas dinner ham plan wasn’t a go. There wasn’t a recipe for it in the cookbook that turned out to be heavily pasta dishes, an observation that made him ask Rick if he was subconsciously back in Italy when he picked this out (“Uh… I honestly just bought it because the lasagna on the cover looked fucking delicious.”). Also neither of them wanted to go out this close to Christmas just to pick up some pig. So once again, Cliff was out back cooking steaks on Christmas, now complete with his frilly outfit.

They waited a couple days to emerge from a voluntary lock up in the house to grab stuff for New Year’s Eve. Cliff decided he was going to start off easy and try a basic chicken alfredo that night while Rick was keeping face at the Polanskis’ party. He figured it must have been a large enough gathering if he could hear it from the kitchen.

“Hey, great timing, man. I’m just about done here. How was the party?”

“Crowded. It was like a fucking sardine can, y-you could barely move.” Rick goes to the kitchen and grabs the Champagne bottle out of instinct only for Cliff to instantly grab it away.

“Woah, partner. That’s for midnight. You still got an hour to go.” Cliff gets him a glass of water instead much to Rick’s disgruntlement. “You’re already looking tipsy so sober up a bit.”

“Yeah, yeah… was hoping to exit this shitty year already by blacking out by now,” Rick mumbles as he plops down at the table. 

“What are you talking about, man? This has been the best year in some time.” Cliff starts plating his meal, taking his time to at least make Rick’s plate look nice. His he just slopped on. 

“The fuck, Cliff? How the hell is a year where you got stabbed and nearly killed by some hippie weirdos and spent time in the hospital your best year?”

“Well, there was our time in Italy together. I enjoyed the first five months of that,” Cliff says with a sly wink as he brings their food over and goes to grab more water for them. “And then you making sure I was well taken care of at the hospital was sweet. And now these past couple of weeks bring it over the top for me so yeah, best year in a long time.”

That was one thing Rick admired about Cliff: he had a way to let the good outweigh the bad, even if there was more of the latter. And in truth, more positive things happen for both of them this year than the last few years combined. Just that fucking hippie attack put a dark cloud over everything, and he didn’t even get stabbed. If Cliff can get past it, he can try as well. 

“Fine, you made your point. So I gotta be honest, this doesn’t smell that bad,” Rick says as he leans over and sniffs at it. 

Cliff chuckles as he hangs his apron up before sitting down. “Well dig in and tell me what you think.”

Rick takes his first bite and chews thoroughly. He doesn’t spit it out so that’s a good sign. He has a few more mouthfuls as he thinks it over. Not bad. Just missing something...

“Cliff. How much salt did you add?”

“Uh, none?”

“That’s what’s missing. I clearly remember seeing you needed to salt the water when you had me approve the recipe.”

“Well you know how heavy handed I am with shit like salt and pepper, didn’t wanna risk over doing it.”

“Cliff, there’s fucking measurements listed right there, you just add what it says.”

“Ah, those are just suggestions, man. I eyeballed the whole thing.”

“You didn’t measure any of this???”

“Didn’t think you had the measuring tools seeing as we don’t ever cook like this.”

“Of course I have the tools, what the hell have you been using all these years?”

“Again, I eyeball everything. Never followed a recipe before other than what’s on the back of a box. Like it says 6 cups of water on a mac’n’cheese box, I just add what I think is enough. And speaking of which, it doesn’t say to add salt to my water for the mac.”

“That’s because you eat like a fucking five year old and they don’t give a shit if it’s salted.”

“And why the hell do you add salt to the water anyways and not directly onto the pasta?”

“I… uh… don’t know…”

Rick knew he wasn’t a master chef either and at this point, Cliff has cooked him more food than he has. He doesn’t know why he felt like he should give Cliff such a hard time. After all, he was at least trying. He could have completely ignored the cookbook and dumb apron altogether. 

“I’m sorry, buddy. It’s good. M-m-miles above what you’ve done before. And you’re right, y-you are way t-too heavy handed so this beats eating the Dead Sea.” Rick feels a lot better when he sees Cliff smile at his compliment. Cliff always gave them to him even when he didn’t deserve them, and it felt nice giving some in return. 

“Well point me in the direction of the tools and I’ll use them next time. Whenever that is since you’re leaving again this week and I don’t know if I’ll have time to try again.”

“Yeah, sure… sure. Have you decided if you’re coming to visit during my hiatus in February?”

Cliff took pause. He still was undecided if he should or not. Rick was going to be overseas until April shooting back to back movies in France. However, Cliff did not have the best memories last time he was in France. He’s mostly kept his PTSD under control and it wasn’t something he openly discussed with Rick, either. After all, Rick was far more preoccupied with everything wrong or could go wrong in his life that Cliff didn’t want to burden him with his own problems. And as usual, Cliff didn’t mind how one sided this relationship got at times. He was just thankful there was someone who wanted him around.

“We’ll see. When was it again?”

“Huh… might actually be around Valentines. I will have to check.”

“Well now I feel even more pressured to show up. Especially since we were preparing for Italy last year and didn’t get to do anything.” Cliff forces a smile as his internal debates rages on inside him. Maybe he should just open up to Rick on why he didn’t want to go. It’s not like Rick hasn’t heard a good amount of war horror stories from him before; it’s just the fact Rick only heard those stories from this stoic, almost mythical warrior and not the human Cliff struggled with showing. 

“Woah, hey. It’s quarter ‘till. Why don’t you take the Champagne and glasses outside while I clean up real quick. And don’t open it.”

Rick scoffs at being told not to open it early, even though he knows he would have. He takes two tall glasses and the bottle to the two chairs behind the pool facing the view over the city. Usually they could see fireworks in the distance from where they were. Rick would ask now and then if Cliff ever wanted to go see a display in person around this time or the 4th of July, but Cliff would always say no. He just assumed he wasn’t a fan of the booming so they just stuck to their distant view. Rick turns on the radio so they could listen to the countdown before pulling out two cigarettes and sticks them in his mouth to light them, offering one to Cliff when he finally comes to sit down. 

“Here. Have one of mine. Better than that Red Apple shit you keep using. Maybe you should make that your New Year’s resolution and switch brands.”

Cliff smirks as he takes it from him. “Or we could both make a resolution to stop smoking all together.”

They both looked at each other for a moment and burst out laughing. They knew it wouldn’t last more than a day. 

Cliff opens and pours the Champagne a couple minutes before midnight and passes his glass to Rick before raising his own. “To 1969. What a fucking crazy year it’s been.”

“You said it, ol’ buddy.” Rick pulls his cigarette out so he can finally get his drink in him as the countdown starts. “... five… four… three… two… one… Happy N-“

Rick didn’t get to finish or take a sip as Cliff was suddenly in his face kissing him hard out of left field. His eyes were still wide and completely stunned that he didn’t notice that he spilled most of his Champagne. 

“The fuck was t-that for??”

Cliff just shrugs. “I thought you were suppose to kiss someone at midnight or something as tradition.”

“Couldn’t have fucking warned me first?” Rick finally noticed his glass was nearly empty but Cliff willingly switches glasses with him without being asked. 

“There, happy now?”

Rick wanted to keep being annoyed. He really did. But it was just petty at this point. And it wasn’t exactly an unwelcomed surprised and Cliff tried to make up for it. “Yeah. I-I’m fine. Anyways, Happy New Years,” he whispers as he quickly raises his glass and downs it. “Nice fireworks.”

“Yeah. Nice.”


	3. Valentine’s Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was suppose to strictly be fluff but it decided to take a hard right off the freeway. It should go back to what I was originally planning from the start in the last chapter but Cliff just really needs some therapy first.

Cliff reluctantly found himself on a plane a couple days before Valentine’s Day heading to Paris. He decided to not pull any more surprises for awhile and just made a promise to Rick right before he left that he’d come over for the week. It would mean a lot to Rick, and he also didn’t want to go four months without seeing him. And since he was traveling alone and didn’t need to deal with Rick’s luggage, he simply just used a duffle bag to stuff his essentials in with plenty of room to spare. 

By mid-afternoon on the 13th, Cliff finally got off the plane and proceeded to take the train through Pairs towards the outer edge of the city. It took until well past sunset for him to finally find the apartment Rick was renting as it was a decent walk from transportation and he didn’t want to waste his exchanged cash on a cab. He walks up several flights of stairs and knocks on what he hopefully thinks is Rick’s door. 

“Bonjour,” Cliff says with a beaming smile as Rick opens the door. 

“I didn’t know you spoke French, thank fuck. It’s been miserable not understanding anyone here,” Rick said as he clings to him tightly. Cliff just cocks an eyebrow that Rick would think he knew an entire language just because he said one of the most common known French words that even Rick should know by now after spending over a month here. 

“Yeah, I know just enough to get by. The important stuff. ‘Parlez-vous anglais?’ “‘Va te faire foutre.’ ‘Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?’”

Rick just laughs and shakes his head. “I got no fucking clue what you said but…” he trails off and punctuates with a click sound and thumbs up. “Come on in, let me show you around real quick. I-It’s not as nice as the Italian one but I’m not here as long.”

Cliff smirks, tossing the duffle bag in the corner and follows him around as Rick tries to make the place seem more impressive than it was. It was basically just a living area attached to a kitchen, a bath, and bedroom. Cliff was actually surprised Rick would put up with something this small.

“Hey, it’s bigger than my trailer. This is a luxury compared to that. You want me to take the couch since I noticed that bed is awfully small?”

“Oh. I guess it is. Well I-I don’t mind b-being that close.” 

“Uh huh. Well maybe it’s a good time for you to learn some of that French I was just saying. Why don’t you ask me ‘Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?’”

“Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?” Rick replies, butchering most of the words in the process. 

Cliff grins and replies “Oui” before taking Rick’s hand and pulls him towards the bedroom. 

“W-wait, Cliff. What the fuck did I just say? Cliff? CLIFF!”

—

By morning, Cliff still didn’t translate for Rick what he said last night but Rick kinda got the idea. He also got the feeling most of the French coming out of Cliff’s mouth were things he shouldn’t be saying to others, unless he wanted to be met with a punch in the face. Or maybe a good time, who knows?

Rick also decided to be cliché and got them dinner reservations for a restaurant down the street. A really fancy looking place he’d been wanting to try since he got here but didn’t want to eat alone at. Of course Cliff didn’t pack anything halfway decent for even an averagely nice restaurant.

“Couldn’t have given me a heads up? I could have grabbed a suit in LA.”

“I wanted to surprise you for once and besides, now I have an excuse to get a new one as well. Plus I need you to interpret for me.”

Spending an afternoon stuck getting fitted for clothes Cliff could have easily acquired at home was not how he wanted to spend this trip. But for some reason Rick really took to it and he let him have his fun, and by fun he means Rick modeling off a dozen suits while also deciding what Cliff looked best in. 

“I don’t care, man. Just don’t have us wearing the same thing is all I ask. We look like twins enough when working together and I don’t want to feel that off set.”

“I’m going to do one last one and I swear I’ll make a decision,” Rick yells from the dressing room.

Cliff sighs and leans back, crossing his arms and closes his eyes trying to relax. However, his hearing started to heighten as he picked up some of the French conversations going on in the background. His mind started to race frantically trying to translate what was being said in case there were traitors amongst them. He wasn’t going to let this shit happen again. He wasn’t going to lose any more comrades. He wasn’t going to-

“Jesus, Cliff! What the fuck i-is wrong with you? You nearly took my arm off!” Rick was standing above him rubbing his forearm from where Cliff had violently grabbed it a moment ago. He made the mistake of touching Cliff’s shoulder since he thought he was dozing off only to met with a crazed look on Cliff’s face and quite possibly a bruised arm. 

“I… I… you startled me. I’m so sorry, man. You just caught me at a bad moment is all.”

“Well now thanks to you I might have to buy this green suit if you fucking damaged it. I look like a fucking leprechaun.”

“A handsome leprechaun. I like it, you should get it.” That was a lie but Cliff was more interested in trying to steer the conversation away from what just happened and hopefully getting the hell out of here as soon as possible. 

“You really think so? Well green is the color of money and I do like money. Which suit did you like for yourself?”

“Uh, that one,” Cliff says pointing in the general direction of the ones he tried on not bothering to look at what he selected since he honestly couldn’t care less.

“The burgundy? You sure? We’ll look like fucking Christmas.”

“Then we’ll be set for then as well. Come on, let’s just hurry up and go. I need a nap before we go out later.”

—

Cliff wasn’t any more refreshed from the nap or shower he took before getting dressed. Rick thankfully didn’t bring the incident up again; he was embarrassed enough as is that he attacked him like that as Cliff did his best to keep that violent side of himself under wraps when around him. The last thing Cliff needed was Rick to become afraid of him like most everyone in their industry. He put the suit on and felt really silly when he saw himself in the mirror; maybe he should have paid better attention to choosing a color.

“Well you can’t say we won’t stand out,” Rick says as they head downstairs and onto the streets. “It’s just at the end of the corner here. Always smells fucking amazing when I pass it so it better not disappoint.”

Cliff just nods automatically, not really paying attention to what Rick is saying as he’s observing everything else as the paranoia starts to creep in. The bright colored suits were definitely a bad idea as they were now easy targets to the imaginary snipers he believed were lurking. 

“Cliff, you’re walking right past it. CLIFF!” 

Finally Cliff snaps out of it for a moment to realize Rick was waiting with the door open. He could see Rick looked a bit annoyed but he couldn't quickly come up with anything to say to make it better like he usually could so he just walks in and waits for Rick to confirm the reservation. Of course he noticed right away as they were being led to their table that not only did their outfits stick out the most of all the patrons, but it was all couples and none of them were the same sex. 

“Are you mad at me, Cliff?”

Cliff looked up from his menu in surprise. “Mad? Where the hell did you get that idea?”

“You’ve been acting disinterested all day. I-I went out of my way t-to plan a nice evening out for us for over a month and you’re n-not even paying attention to where you’re going. I-I’ve m-m-missed you… and I wanted this to be p-perfect.”

The guilt stabbed Cliff sharply in the heart. On one hand, he was still not happy about coming back to France but he couldn’t help that that was where Rick’s movie was being shot. And it was his own damn fault for always avoiding his feelings and not opening up to Rick about stuff. And on the other hand, part of him wanted to snap at Rick to stop thinking about himself for once and realize he’s not the only one in the world struggling with stuff. But what saved Rick from getting the latter was the damn stutter and knowing Rick just wanted this next step in their relationship.

“I’m sorry. It’s just the reason I was reluctant to saying yes to coming here was… was…” Cliff’s senses heightened again as he sat up straight in his seat. The new couple being seated a couple tables over were speaking in German. He didn’t know much German but he knows he’s never been in a situation where it ended well. But right now he’s completely frozen, not sure how to asses the situation, trying to remind his brain that the war is over and no one is planning to attack them. It wasn’t until the loud ‘bang!’ he heard of something dropping in the kitchen that he jolted from his seat, eyes wide and heart racing as the eyes of the entire dining room turned on him.

“Cliff… damnit, Cliff. Sit down,” Rick whispers harshly through his teeth. “Everyone is staring and not for the reasons I expected them to.”

Cliff’s fight or flight instincts were strictly becoming flight at this point. Maybe he should just step outside for a bit. He knew he’d be disappointing Rick but at this point his mental health needed to take priority before things got too out of hand. “Excuse me. I’m sorry, Rick. Really… I am,” he says as he walks outside as calmly as he can, not giving Rick a chance to stop him.

As he’s fumbling for a cigarette while quickening his pace, Cliff looks for somewhere to hide where Rick can’t find him right away. He has no idea if Rick is chasing him, and part of him wished he maybe was, but he knows he needs to be alone for a bit. He finds an alleyway to slip into so he can finally light up as he leans against the wall and takes a drag. 

Rick never came. Or at least never found him if he did give chase. Cliff wasn’t sure how much time had passed but Rick wasn’t at the restaurant when he finally was calm enough to go back.

_I ruined his night. I ruined his night and he might not forgive me, even though I’m the one suffering. Why am I okay with this relationship being so one sided emotionally, that I believe only his feelings should matter? What am I so fucking afraid of?_

Well if Rick wanted a cliché romantic evening, he could try making it up that way. He grabs the typical chocolates, roses, and a bottle of wine on the way back to the apartment, praying that Rick was there when he knocked. He was relieved to be greeted by the actor, despite the fact he was in his robe with an already opened bottle of wine in his hand and in the middle of a crying session.

“What the fuck d-do y-y-you want?” Rick says as he takes another swig from the bottle. “Come to freak out me again? Fucking haven’t ruined my night enough?”

“I’m sorry, man. I got you these.” Cliff offers the roses out only to have them smacked aside onto the floor. The chocolate box met the same fate. “Okay, please don’t take your anger out on the wine bottle, I don’t wanna clean up that mess.”

Rick finishes his current bottle and smashes that one on the floor instead, getting a sigh out of a Cliff. “You know I wouldn’t waste alcohol like that,” he mumbles as he takes the new one from Cliff and goes to open it while Cliff comes inside and starts cleaning up the shards of glass and fallen rose petals. “Well are you going to fucking explain yourself or should I just go to bed?”

Cliff finishes sweeping up the mess and picks the roses up. “Got something I can put the flowers in?” 

“Yeah, sure. Right here.” Rick grabs them and tosses them in the trash. “Stop dodging my question and fucking answer it. I-I need you to be more open with me, Cliff, or this isn’t going to work. N-not n-n-necessarily my level of openness but at least give me fucking something! And just giving me gifts to avoid being emotional won’t work. I don’t want to be stuck at this ‘friends who fool around’ level forever, but if that’s all you’re capable of then… then m-maybe this was all...all a m-mistake.”

Cliff didn’t actually show it but he felt an internal wince at the sound of the roses slamming into the can. But Rick was right; he was just going through the motions of what he thought Rick wanted instead of thinking of it as what they both wanted. And in truth, he wanted the same things. He moved in because that’s what Rick kept begging for when he’d actually been wanting to for years but just believed he couldn’t yet. And he actually really enjoyed getting the damn apron and cookbook but instead he told himself he’s only doing it for Rick’s enjoyment (or annoyance) and not for both of theirs. And tonight he should have enjoyed a meal together with Rick because he wanted to have a night out with his… whatever Rick was to him now. Not because just Rick wanted to. 

“Our night. This should have been our night…”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“You said I ruined your night. It was our night that I ruined. I always prioritize you above me when it comes to everything in our relationship when I should be doing it at an even playing field. I’ve been doing everything the way I have been because I tell myself that’s what you want and not what I also want or don’t want. And maybe that way of thinking did work best as friends or as your employee. But you’re right. I need to give back emotionally and be open and stop avoiding my feelings. So I’m going to tell you what I should have said back when you first asked: I didn’t want to come to France. I didn’t want to return to where I lived through not just the most traumatic years of my life, but most traumatic event. Yeah, even more than the damn hippies. I thought maybe I’d be okay, that the war was over and nothing would trigger anything, but I was wrong. And that’s why I was so hesitant about coming over; not because I didn’t want to be with you, but because I was worried you would see this weakness in me. But guess we are too late for that.”

Rick listens carefully, trying to digest everything being said. When Cliff finishes and once it all sinks in, he bursts out laughing. “Weak? I don’t consider what you’ve been doing all day weakness. I mean fuck, look who you’re talking to. You could n-never be the wreck that I am on a daily basis. But y-you’ve done so m-much for me over the years, I just want to finally give the same support back. I don’t need you to be a god damn war hero every day. I just need you to be Cliff.”

“And what if that is all Cliff is? What if I can’t turn it off? And besides, that is all you’ve known me as so I assumed that’s what you’re into.”

“How do you know I wouldn’t be more into you being vulnerable?”

Cliff laughs softly. “Well you’re an open book, more so than any man I’ve ever met. I guess maybe that is why I find you endearing. After years of being around men like me, you were a breath of fresh air.” He looks out the window, finally noticing the city lights and how lovely they looked from the view. “Would you be willing to take a road trip to Normandy this week?”

“Normandy? Why, were you at the beaches that day? Was that your traumatic event?”

“Hmm? Oh, no. No, I was in the country already with the British Commandos, those green beret guys. We were suppose to join up but…” Cliff froze up again. He spent so many years trying to forget everything that happened than he didn’t know what would happen if he opened that dam again. 

“It’s okay, Cliff. You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready.”

Cliff looks up at him. He was thankful Rick wasn’t forcing him but if the Band-Aid was already halfway up he might as well rip the rest off. “We were having a nice night out. At some little tavern out in the countryside. We thought the French couple running the place were allies but for whatever reason, I don’t know, maybe they had a child held hostage or were threatened with having their establishment burned down, whatever. But they sold us out to the Germans. Came and shot the damn place up but somehow we were able to sense something was wrong right beforehand that some of us were able to survive. But that still didn’t stop the fact I got to watch my best friend die in my arms that night shielding me from a bullet meant for me.”

“That… that’s rough, buddy.” Rick honestly didn’t know what to say as he took another swig from the bottle. He just gave some long ass speech about Cliff needing to open up so Rick could be supportive and when the guy tells him a situation that Rick knows full well he himself would not survive, all he could come up with was ‘That’s rough, buddy?’ Now it was Rick’s turn to feel guilty. 

“It’s okay, man. I know what you mean. Don’t feel bad about not knowing how to process this since honestly no one should ever have to. And also it’s why I was never keen on sharing as I would just rather forget as well.” Cliff gives Rick a smile to show him he’s sincere as he takes the bottle from him and downs the rest. “Look, it’s still Valentines for a couple more hours. Let’s eat some chocolates and call each other mushy terms of endearment for the rest of the night, alright, darling?”

“Whatever you say, honey.”

—-

Rick sat alone in the car they rented for their trip out to Normandy. He walked with Cliff through most of the memorials but he obliged Cliff’s request at the end that he just wanted to be alone before they left. He still didn’t understand how Cliff would ever think himself weak after everything he’s ever told him. In contrast, it made Rick feel unaccomplished and that what he did for a living was rather silly in comparison. 

It was about a half hour before Cliff came back in the driver’s seat. He didn’t say anything, nor did Rick, as he lit himself a cigarette to calm himself, his eyes giving away that he had been crying. 

“How old were you when the Japs attacked?”

“Hmm?”

“Pearl Harbor. How old were you?”

“Oh, let’s see. That was ‘41? So uh, I believe I was eleven. Yeah, pretty sure.”

Cliff closes his eyes as he laughs, causing concern for Rick. “What the fuck is so funny? Yeah, I know, that makes you much older than me at the time but our age difference d-doesn’t bother me, alright? I-I don’t-

“Rick. Just shut up.” Cliff was still smiling when he said it so he wasn’t mad. If anything he was probably the happiest he’s look all day. “I’m laughing because… well, because of how innocent you are. Well obviously you aren’t innocent like a saint, you’re far from that. But I’m just so thankful the war ended before it could rip that kind of innocence away from you like it did for me. Protect and serve. It was people like you we were doing that for even if I didn’t realize it at the time. And I guess I’m still protecting and serving you to this day.”

It was then Rick realized exactly how lucky he had it in life. Yes, he had some downs as of late. Major, major downs. But he managed to avoid war, enjoy doing something he loved for a living even if it wasn’t at the level he wanted, and he had a partner that was always willing to stick by him no matter how much he took him for granted. To someone like Cliff, that sounds like a fucking great life. “Well thank you for your service, both on the battlefield and off.”

Cliff nods as he flicks his cigarette out the window and he starts the car up. “It’s been my absolute pleasure, man. In all seriousness, it really has been.”


	4. Birthday

Cliff’s eye slowly opened to the sound of the alarm going off at 7am on the morning of April 22. (_Right… it’s Rick’s birthday…_) He casually reaches over and smacks his hand around until he shuts it off before rolling over towards the other side only to be met with the warm body lying there. 

“Good morning, darling. You sleep well?”

Brandy answered with sloppy tongue kisses all over his face. 

“Mmm, that’s a good girl I don’t know what Rick will think of you keeping his side of the bed warm for him while he’s been away.the past few months but I think he’ll be taking it back tonight. Come on, we got work to do before we go get him.”

After their trip to Normandy, Cliff got more relaxed and managed to survive the rest of the trip without another incident. Of course, he also insisted to Rick that they just stay in the apartment those last couple days and fuck enough to keep them satisfied for the next couple months so there weren’t many outside stressors to deal with. Cliff grins thinking about those couple of days as he slips one of his black shirts on and lights up an early morning cigarette after remembering all that. His hand hasn’t been cutting it these past couple months, that’s for sure. But he’d have to ignore the half-mast forming in his pants for now as he procrastinated on his task list for the week, which he now only had maybe a few hours to complete. 

“Yeah, Brandy, you’re definitely not getting the bed tonight. Probably best you stay out of the bedroom altogether,” he chuckles as he’s in the middle of opening her cans of food. Cliff was wondering if he was even going make it until tonight or the blue balls were gonna get to him. 

Cliff finishes feeding Brandy and gets set to his biggest task first: cleaning up the entire house. He let it get to his trailer level of mess in several areas and he hadn’t done any of the basics like vacuuming, dusting, mopping, pretty much any surface cleaning. The kitchen was full of messy pans, bowls, and utensils from all the practice lasagnas and pineapple upside down cakes he made every week since he got back so they were perfect for Rick’s birthday meal. 

By 10am he had everything as clean as he could get it. Hopefully Rick would be none the wiser to how out of hand it got because Cliff could only imagine the horror on Rick’s face. It would probably be the same as the one he had after the hippie attack when he finally realized how much blood was everywhere and was better off replacing a lot of things. 

Earlier that week while out shopping for his groceries for the actual meal, Cliff decided to go get some party supplies. He honestly didn’t care what Rick thought of them, if he found them too hokey or not; he was doing this because he thought it would be fun. So he bought balloons, streamers, party hats, blowers, all the dumb shit a man turning 40 would probably hate to see when he walks into his house. Cliff was almost cackling to himself as he took a marker to write messages on the balloons before he hung them and the streamers up. Perfect. Fucking perfect. 

Even though there was thankfully no holiday traffic to deal with, Cliff still left for LAX a whole hour earlier. He wasn’t in the mood to be told off for being late again, especially if it puts Rick in a bad mood. Luckily he had enough time he was actually able to go in and wait at the gate for him. Now he was kicking himself for not bringing a dumb sign that said ‘Dalton’ just to see if he could get a laugh out of Rick. 

“Mr. Dalton. Sorry I didn’t have a sign, but I’m Mr. Booth and I’ll be your chauffeur today, if you would so kindly follow me,” Cliff says with a wink as he sees Rick excitedly approaching him only to slow down when Rick realizes he has to keep it casual here.

“Thank you, Mr. Booth.” The two of them head down to baggage claim and grabbed Rick’s four suitcases. “Would you so kindly carry all my luggage for me? It is my birthday after all.”

“You know, Mr. Dalton. I’d hate for your actual age to get announced… Pretty sure it starts with a new number now.”

Rick took half his luggage back. 

The drive home was pretty quiet for the most part. Cliff assumed Rick was jet lagged and just wanted to doze a bit and Cliff was too busy trying to keep his dick in his pants after having to pretend he didn’t want to make out right there in the terminal. 

Finally, Cliff pulls the Cadillac into the driveway, his mind buzzing like there were pheromones in the air. Apparently Rick was feeling it too because as soon as Cliff turn the engine off, Rick was clawing to get into his lap. 

“Woah, woah, what are you doing, huh? You honestly can’t walk a few feet first to get in the house?”

“No, I fucking can’t. I-I’ve waited over t-two months for this and I noticed walking back to the car y-you’re probably the same.” Rick runs a palm over Cliff’s groin to confirm it. “See. I was fucking right.”

“Oh, shut up and kiss me already.” Cliff does so with enough force to send Rick into the horn causing it blare the first of several times during this session that it was a wonder a neighbor didn’t come out. Neither of them really remembered what happened after that; Cliff was sure it was just a hormonal haze but when he came down from his high, all he knew was both their pants were around their knees with Rick’s hand still grasping their cocks together and a mess the car detailers will not be happy to clean. 

“So…. that happened. Fuck. I need a cigarette…” Cliff mumbles as he reaches for his pack and lights one as Rick rolls off back into the passenger side and does the same. “Shit, I hope no one saw that.”

“Oh, who fucking cares if they get a-a free show. Fucking needed that. Fucking neeeeded that,” Rick emphasizes as he wiggles back into his pants and zips up. “You s-spoiled me r-r-rotten when I last saw you.”

“Oh don’t worry, I spoiled myself. If I haven’t been beating it as often as I have this mess would be worse.”

Rick quickly straightens up and looks around at the damage. “Shit, my car! Fuck…how bad is it?”

“I’d say our clothes got the brunt of it but honestly, I think you moving off made it worst.”

“Fine,” Rick grumbles as he tightens his lips around his cigarette so he can open the door and carefully get out, taking the keys with him. “Clean up what you can, we’ll take it to the wash tomorrow.”

Cliff carefully rolls out his end, slowly takes his shirt off and uses the inside dry areas to wipe up. Luckily it wasn’t so bad, they should be able to get th-

“CLIFF!”

Cliff completely forgot about the decorations he put up but the shocked look on Rick’s face made the payoff worth it.

“The fuck is this? Are you throwing me a child’s party?”

“Well you sorta-“

“Don’t… d-don’t you fucking finish that sentence, Cliff. A-and what in the goddamn hell is written on these balloons? ‘It’s all downhill from here’, ‘You’re old, man… and an old man’, and this one is just a fucking skull and crossbones drawn on it.”

“Yeah, because you’re 40. You’re over the hill. If it makes you feel any better I’m already several rolls downhill already.”

Rick rolls his eyes. “I’m gonna go take a fucking nap. Soak my clothes for me, will you?”

Cliff salutes him before taking an actual rag to go and finish cleaning up the car and pull Rick’s luggage in. Then he finds Rick has left his clothes in the bathroom and he completely strips down as well and let’s them all soak in the sink as best he can. He goes to get a new change of clothes but finds that Rick has already closed the bedroom door so he could sleep. 

“Well, Brandy. I wouldn’t want to disturb Rick, now would I? Birthday suit it is then,” Cliff says as he pats her on the head and heads out into the kitchen to get started on the birthday meal. 

Rick woke up and showered an hour later and just goes straight into wearing his comfy robe and slippers. He walks out into the living room yawning and rubbing the sleep from one of his eyes with his palm until he suddenly stops at the sight in the kitchen. “You… I g-gotta be f-fucking dreaming… are you cooking while wearing _just_ that god damn apron???”

“Hey man, I was just being considerate and didn’t want to wake you just to grab clothes. You need your beauty rest.” Cliff turns around to open the refrigerator making sure Rick got a full few of his backside. 

Rick inhales sharply as he sits down on the couch where Brandy waits for dinner and just watches Cliff move about. “So you’re waiting to be fed, too?” he asks the pit bull as he gives her some scratches behind the ear. 

“She’s been fed. But you can just be a good boy and wait your turn as well. And no whining, right Brandy?”

“Arf!”

“What the hell? I’m not your fucking dog you’ve got trained.”

Cliff stops what he’s doing and looks up at him with a serious face. “Are we whining? You whine and you’re not getting dinner, cake, and anything else that might come after.”

Rick’s mouth just hangs open as he can’t tell at this point if Cliff was kidding or not. All he knew at this point was that he was starving and also kinda turned on. He huffs and crosses his legs and goes back to petting Brandy. “Your master is a fucking weirdo.”

“Yeah, but you love me,” Cliff says with a smile. He pulls the lasagna out of the oven and puts the cake in to bake. “Alright, just let it cool a moment. You want a whiskey sour?”

“Shit, you have to ask? Also, you are changing, right? I don’t want your bare ass on my seat.”

“Why not? If I recall both my ass and yours have been on that couch you’re sitting on and several other pieces of furniture without complaints.”

Rick didn’t have a response but Cliff just gives him a grin as he takes the apron off and hangs it up. “Alright, I’ll change,” he says as he comes spinning around the kitchen counter as Rick groans and covers his eyes in embarrassment. “Whaaat, you just saw it a couple hours ago.”

“That was different. Y-you’re just being a f-fucking tease here.” Rick feels his cheeks getting redder and after not hearing Cliff reply for a bit, he peeks between his fingers to see Cliff was gone. “Thank fuck. I didn’t think I was gonna last there, girl,” he says to Brandy. 

“Last with what?” Cliff asks as he comes back out dressed in just one of Rick’s robes. “And I figured I’d just wear this since I probably won’t be wearing it that long,” he answers Rick’s unasked question. 

“Just please tell me you’re wearing underwear under that, shit.”

Cliff smirks as he starts to undo the robe tie like a striptease to Rick’s horror thinking he’s going to get flashed but is relieved to see he had boxers underneath. “Feel better, now? Now let’s go eat before food gets too cold. Would you like candlelight to set the mood?”

“This is just dinner, right? Not dinner and a fucking show or something?”

“I already gave you the show but you didn’t really want to watch.” Cliff gives him a pouting face and a smack on the ass as he goes to make Rick his whiskey sour and plate a slice of lasagna. Rick decides to just go along with it lights the candles and turns the main lights off. 

“Alright, I admit. This is k-kinda nice.”

“I hope so. I hope it makes up for me ruining our dinner in France.”

“D-don’t mention it. I like this better already. Just us.”

“Also I like the robes better than the suits.”

Rick gives out a genuine laugh. “Yeah, yeah. I don’t think either of us were thinking straight that day with wearing those.” He cuts a piece of the lasagna and takes a bite as his eyes widen in surprise. “Holy shit, Cliff. This is good. Like really fucking good. Holy shit.”

“Well it better be. I practiced it once a week since I got home so in all honesty, I’m kinda tired of it. But you said it looked good on the cover of the cookbook so I wanted to make sure it tasted just as good.”

“No, shit, don’t worry. I’ll eat all the leftovers.” Rick finishes his quick enough that Cliff just gives him the rest of his piece while he goes to get the cake out of the oven. 

“Hey, why don’t we take the party out back for cake. It’s a full moon tonight, which means the crazies need to be outside.”

“Finally admitting to me you’re the wolfman, huh?” Rick mumbles with a mouth full of food. He’s all but licked the plate at this point. 

Cliff jokingly howls as he flips the cake over on the plate and starts sticking forty candles in it. “Just call me Lon Chaney, Jr.. Now why don’t you get your sweet behind out there, partner, and grab a hat on the way out.”

“Hat?” Rick nearly jumps as Cliff tosses him a party hat to wear. “You’re fucking joking.”

“Nope!” Cliff puts one on himself to show he’s dead serious and blows one of the blowers. 

Rick cracks a smile. It was kinda cute seeing Cliff just be a big kid and having fun that he just decides to play along and puts it on. “Alright, alright. Happy? Now pass me one of those noise maker things. 

Cliff gives him one as he goes to usher Rick outside with Brandy to wait for him. The full moon was bright enough that they didn’t need to light anything outside. But the new light source that appeared a few minutes later horrified Rick as it looked like the entire cake was on fire with how many candles were lit. 

Cliff sings a long drawn out version of ‘Happy Birthday’ as he walks across the patio carrying the flaming cake, finally setting it down in front of Rick. “Alright, old man. Go ahead and blow them out.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m fucking old,” Rick says with a soft smile before blowing out the candles. “Just remember you’re older. Much older.”

“Hard to forget that when I look like I’ve been through the ringer.” Cliff pulls all the candles out and cuts Rick and himself a slice with a full pineapple ring. “I added whiskey into the batter but the alcohol should have all cooked out. Still thought you’d appreciate it.”

“Looks good. Thanks.” Rick takes a bite and groans. “I don’t know what you did, Cliff, but fuck man, you really improved. You sure you didn’t h-hire someone to make all this?”

“Well I’m flattered. But it’s all me.” Cliff pulls out a wrapped rectangle out of the robe and slides it across the table. “For you. Happy Birthday.”

“Wow you physically got me something this time, huh?” Rick opens the gift and finds a journal with a lock on the front. “What’s this, a diary? You expect me to fill this out or something?”

“No, it’s already filled out. I didn’t know what to get you and I realized I’m not the greatest at talking about my insecurities like you so I decided to write them down for you to read. So in there is pretty much everything you wanted to know about me that I’d never share with another living person. Take to the grave kind of shit. But I guess the best way to prove to you I want to be at that next level is share my feelings with you in some way. Just keep it locked up and the key hidden, alright?” Cliff offers him the key, knowing there was no going back now.

“This… holy shit, Cliff. You’re really sure about this? I mean there’s stuff in here besides the war?”

Cliff laughs looking a bit embarrassed as well. “Ohhh yeah… wait until you get to the high school years.”

Rick’s eyes widen in curiosity as he reaches for the key but suddenly pauses and puts his hand down. “No, you keep the key. T-the fact that you were w-w-willing to share was all I asked. I-I don’t need to know every dark secret about you; I’d rather keep some a mystery.”

Cliff lets out a deep breath and leans back in his chair looking relieved. “Hoo boy, so glad to hear that because there is shit in there that if you read, you’re probably not ever letting me back in your bed.”

“Jesus, don’t entice me to change my mind, alright? Just tell me what fucking bothers you now and then. A-and if it’s in the journal and easier for m-me to just read it than t-that’s fine, too.” 

“Fair enough. And if you ever do want the key, just ask.”

Rick nods and finishes his slice of cake. “I’m stuffed. Keep cooking like that and I’ll gain another fifteen pounds.”

“And I’ll still love you even if you do.” Cliff looks down at his hands and picks at his nail as he tries to think about how he wants to ask this. “So what do we call this? Our relationship, I mean. You said you wanted to be more than friends who fool around, and we’ve been doing that for awhile now. Are we… boyfriends?”

Now this was a question Rick kept wanting to address but could never figure out how to ask, either. “I feel we are a little old for using boyfriends, don’t you think?”

“Well we can’t use husbands, obviously.”

“Why not? Isn’t that what this relationship feels most like? Shit, we’ve been together long enough for a-a common-law marriage or some shit. Just because we don’t have a legal paper d-doesn’t mean we aren’t as close or closer than m-most married couples we know.”

“Well it’s a good thing you think that because…” Cliff reaches his hand and pulls out a small box and slides it forward. “I got you this as well.”

Rick looks stunned as his hand shakes while reaching forward to take it. “Y-you... you d-didn’t… how the hell could you afford one.” He opens the box and laughs at the plastic toy ring inside. “Well that explains it.”

Cliff shrugs and pulls another one out for himself. “Yeah. It’s dumb. But seems fitting for us.” He puts his own on and puts Rick’s on for him. “Just, you know, don’t wear it outside of this house.”

“Right…” Rick looks down and smiles at it. This cheap piece of plastic felt more right than the real thing when he was briefly married to Francesca. If that wasn’t a sign that this was meant to be then he didn’t know what would. “Ready to go inside? Pick up where we left off from this afternoon?”

“Why, I was wondering when you would ask. Want me to clean up first?”

“Leave it. There’s always tomorrow.” Rick grabs his hand and pulls him up for a kiss and wraps his arms around him. “Well thank you for the lovely birthday. Maybe f-forty won’t be so b-bad after all.”

“Well I can full heartedly say my forties have been the best decade of my life seeing as I spent them all with you. And I’m hoping you’ll be spending all of yours and beyond with me.”

“That’s the plan. As long as you don’t fucking end up in anymore situations where either of us can get killed.”

Cliff laughs and gives him another kiss before he starts to pull him along back to the house.

“I’ll try.”

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to QueenHarleyQuinn for saying Rick should be the one to buy Cliff the cookbook/frilly apron. That boy is gonna work it.


End file.
